


Memories Are A Bitch

by KhrisKelley



Series: Rememberances and Regrets [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Corruption, Government Conspiracy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memories, Past Relationship(s), Police Brutality, a very old 'bot looks back at what he considers one of his biggest failures, government-sanctioned violence, hey i love ripping my own heart out, it's fun, shockpax
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-22 09:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12478208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhrisKelley/pseuds/KhrisKelley
Summary: Optimus Prime, alone in a tiny ship, drifting among far-flung stars, decides to take one look at his memories. It can't hurt to just mull it over a little, right?





	1. I Know You

**Author's Note:**

> My first Transformers fic I've felt confident posting. And of course it's sad. Enjoy.

Orion looked at the mech in his arms. Both of them knew full well that if they were found out, there would be a huge media spectacle. Neither of them wanted to deal with that for several reasons, the most important being what they did in secret during their… spare time.

And yet, all the pressure of the world was worth it for moments like this. 

They had, by some miracle, managed to arrange a few days off from their jobs at the same time, hopefully without raising suspicion. Orion had made sure they weren't being bugged or tailed, and they went to his lover's favorite vacation spot from back when he was a much younger 'bot.

The two of them relaxed in each other's arms, contentedly watching the sunset. Orion liked this bot's newest color scheme: blue and red in all the right places like only he could do. Then again, maybe Orion liked it because the senator got it so that "we can match now!"

Orion had asked if he was sure that wouldn't raise suspicion, to which the senator had replied: "If having a similar color scheme means two 'bots are fuckin' each other's brains out in secret, then there are a LOT of cybertronians in clandestine relationships." 

Point taken. 

Orion shifted slightly, moving his lover to a more comfortable position. Something felt off. 

"Optimus," he heard. 

…Optimus? Who is that and why is -- 

"Optimus, why? Why did you let them take me?"

Orion looked down at the 'bot in his arms, who was no longer blue and red, but a deep purple. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as the senator stood. Where there had once been an expressive face, there was now only a single unblinking optic staring back at him.

Orion felt everything slow down, frozen to his spot in shock.

"Optimus, why didn't you save me? Where were you? Why did this happen? I thought you loved me." 

The tall bot's voice deepened and distorted, getting lower in pitch and leveling out to a matter-of-fact, emotionless monotone. "You betrayed me."

Orion finally managed to make his mouth work, "Sweetspark, no, I would nev--"

"You betrayed me. You left me to be ripped apart. And now look at what it's caused."

"I --" [BANG!]

Optimus Prime looked down at his chest, where a gushot wound had opened a hole and decimated his spark.

"You get off easy."

"Shockwave!"


	2. I've Walked With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting old has never been so much FUN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the short chapters, I've had Life Shit happen. They will get longer after this, I promise!

Optimus wakes up sore, as he does most mornings. The dream lingers fresh in his mind, as it does most mornings. He showers and checks the news, as he does most mornings. 

Routine. It would be comforting if it didn't mean that he was now as useless as a gun filed away in an evidence locker.

How many times has he fantasized about life after the war? How many times has he imagined what he would do, where he would go, once Cybertron had peace? He doesn't know, and he doesn't care. He'd stopped fantasizing after the first million years of war. Easier that way.

Primus, that dream really did put him in a sentimental mood, didn't it? It'd been forever since he let his waking thoughts wander to the past. To back when he was hopeful and idealistic and wanted to save the world. To back when he still thought the world could be saved.

He shakes his head and pushes those thoughts right out. They're pointless and draining. He's old and tired and bitter and paranoid. He doesn't know when he stopped hoping, but it was a very long time ago.

Optimus walks over to the pilot's seat of his small shuttle and checks it over, as he does most mornings. Everything is fine, as it is most mornings. He's still on the same heading -- a far-flung planet with no significance to him whatsoever -- as he is most mornings.

He finds himself bored and restless. He goes to his desk and pulls up his old "Remember Why" folder, which is very unlike most mornings.

This folder contains pictures, diary entries, songs, letters from the people he'd loved so much. He'd created it to remind himself of why he was doing what he was doing, why this war was necessary. He hasn't opened this folder in -- he checks the date -- two and a half million years, because there wasn't any point to it. Sentiment got in the way of doing what needed to be done.

He stares at it without opening it. He doesn't know if he should go down this road. This probably isn't a good idea. There's a reason he's let this thing gather metaphorical dust. He decides to put the folder away and go back to his normal routine.

… After maybe a quick glance-thru. What could it hurt? He won't spend too much time on it.

He clicks on the sub-folder titled "Shockwave", and goes back to the beginning…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, I'd be honored if you left kudos or a comment <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, I'd feel honored if you'd leave kudos or maybe even a comment! <3


End file.
